


Paper Trail

by Zelinxia



Category: Free!
Genre: Fluff, Friendship/Love, M/M, Post-Series, Secret Messages
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-06
Updated: 2014-11-06
Packaged: 2018-02-24 07:46:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2573786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zelinxia/pseuds/Zelinxia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Blue is a popular color. My last training memo was on green paper. Does that mean it was from you just because it was green? No.” </p>
<p>In which Makoto knows Haru's been leaving him heartwarming notes and Haru is terrible at lying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paper Trail

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Saintmakoto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saintmakoto/gifts).



> Written for the request _Someone is leaving notes in Haru's locker/bag/etc. Even Haru knows who it is, no matter how much Makoto pretends he doesn't know. They don't have to be romantic notes, they can just be reminders and happy things like: Good luck on your test! (Situations can be switched!)_
> 
> Decided to set it when they are attending universities in Tokyo. Hope you enjoy your gift, Saintmakoto!

Morning classes were the worst. He should be used to it by now. He had to wake up early to drag Haru to school for at least three years, even though he raced the clock more than half the time. But now that Ran and Ren were no longer in the same home to jump on his bed to wake him up, nor was Haru attending the same university, Makoto was on his own to get to class on time.

This was never an easy feat.

He almost forgot his glasses on his way out. As Makoto shoved the case in his backpack, a slip of paper fell out. It was blue and crumpled up, and something he didn’t remember having. When did it get in there? Smoothing it out, there was a hasty scribbled message on it.

_You should invest in a better alarm clock._

Everything about it screamed Haru. It was really adorable. He must have put it sometime when they were having one of their study sessions. Makoto chuckled at the thought.

The bell tower struck eight o’clock. Jolted, he dashed out of the apartment.

* * *

“It’s no good.”

Makoto rubbed a sore spot on his head, overstrained from poring over all his English class notes and handbooks. Juggling prepositions and articles was preposterous. The worst crime of all was the muddied spelling rules. With the spelling portion in his mind, Makoto tapped his pencil harder against the table. 

Next to him, Haru flipped through the pages. He poked Makoto on the back with the ends of his chopsticks. 

“Then why take a subject you know you’re weak in?”

Make that another sore spot – albeit playful – for him. 

“Oh shut up,” he said. “You know why.”

“Take it easy. Call it a night. Go wash the dishes or something while I get ready for bed.” 

“Yeah.” That could get his mind off of studying and the looming English exam. That sounded like a good idea. “Thanks, Haru.”

Whenever they had dinner at either of their places, Haru cooked and Makoto cleaned up. Stacks of dishes lay on the table, and many more along with pots and pans were strewn about on the kitchen counters. Makoto gathered them and dumped the contents in the sink. Hot water, sponge and soap, and lots of scrubbing: at least it was something he was an expert at.

Satisfied with the clean kitchen space, he dried his hands and set himself to tidy up his school work.

“Hey, come over here.”

“Eh? What is it now?”

Makoto found Haru in his room. Haru had changed into his pajamas and was standing idly by the bedside drawer, pointing at the clock. It was a curious sight to behold.

“So you finally got rid of that other clock.”

The former one was ancient. A hand-me down from his father, the display light did not always fully function, giving off strange time readings. Worse, the alarm volume would randomly be mute even though Makoto made sure to set it at a reasonable noise level. The alarm settings on his phone were unreliable as well. 

This new one had friendlier green lights and the snooze button was smaller. It was a good investment. Speaking of investing – 

“Well it was thanks to your note I finally went and buy a new one.”

“A note?” 

“Yeah, the one you left in my backpack. Here, look.” 

Makoto opened the drawer and revealed the crinkled blue note he discovered a few days ago. He tossed it over to Haru, who caught it. He scanned it quietly.

“I did not write this note.”

His expression remained flat, but Makoto knew better than that. No way could anyone else know about his terrible issues with the old clock.

“Are you sure, Haru? The paper is even blue.”

“Blue is a popular color. My last training memo was on green paper. Does that mean it was from you just because it was green? No.” 

Haru was terrible at lying. It was really adorable.

“True.” Makoto smiled. “But how many other people really knew the old clock’s problems?”

“Shouldn’t you get ready? Your exam is first thing in the morning.”

“Oh shut up.”

* * *

Haru did not have training the next morning, so he woke up later than usual and at the same time as Makoto. He still had a class at ten though, so he headed out first to catch his train back.

Not in a hurry for once, Makoto brushed up as much of his remaining notes as he could outside in the hallway along with other classmates. He thumbed through the writing handbook and reviewed basic grammar rules with great fervor.

“Um, excuse me? I think you dropped something from your book.”

He looked up. In front of him was a young woman with plaits. Makoto didn’t know her name, but he recognized the face well to know she was in the same class. She clutched a slip of paper in her hand.

“I didn’t notice. Thank you.”

He unfolded the note. It wasn’t blue this time, but the handwriting was obviously the same. 

_Good luck on your test. You can do it._

“Oh! Is that something someone special wrote for you?”

She hadn’t seen what it said, even though it was crisp and very Haru-like. He supposed the spontaneous grin he broke into made her believe it was from someone he was dating. Not true. (But thinking about it elevated the butterflies in his stomach.)

“Well, one could say yes.”

* * *

A week later he got his exam back. His score wasn’t in the high range, nor was it low and just barely made the passing grade. Still, it was higher than he had expected to receive. Nothing could make him happier.

As soon as he had the free time, Makoto texted Haru the good news. Plus, he was hoping they could grab dinner at their favorite spot halfway between their places in Tokyo. Haru said he could make it.

Over a plate of steamed rice and sizzling mackerel for Haru and noodles for himself, Makoto said, “By the way. I really appreciated that note you left in my English book.”

Haru swallowed his food as if the taste had just turned sour. He downed some water then glared at Makoto.

“Someone in your class left that note.”

“Right.” Sure, as popular as he was with peers, that note was there before class started. He laughed.

“No way could Haru have slipped that note in the book the night before.”

Haru had Makoto foot his bill as well for payback.

* * *

Over the weeks and months, he found notes left behind without a name. Notes in his bag, notes tucked in books, and even notes in his sweater pockets. The messages varied, but they always showed great care.

_Get some more sleep._

_There are some cats by the university’s courtyard._

_Keep up the good work in school._

_You will be a great teacher._

_You already are a great teacher._

Each and every time he brought those up to Haru, he denied he was the source of all these notes. Even though no one else knew Makoto better than him. Sure, Makoto could let the subject drop, but it was always fun to poke back at his best friend. And he knew words weren’t always easy to come by for Haru, so to know his friend was conveying them this way was heartwarming.

Come February, Makoto woke up to find a box of homemade chocolates left outside his door with a card. And the note was the best part.

Fine, I admit it. What is your answer?

He knew he had until around March to give back what Haru deserved. But there was no need to have him wait.

Later that night, Makoto rode the train to Haru’s place with a green piece of paper tucked in his coat pocket and leftover taste of chocolate lingering on his tongue.

Haru opened the door no later than three seconds after he rang the bell. This must had been the fastest he had been greeted at the front, Makoto mused. Haru held his breath. 

“Hi?”

Makoto pulled Haru into his arms. He was quick to follow in the embrace, (and somewhere in that moment, Makoto slipped the paper in Haru’s pocket). Under soft February snow, they kissed, huddled in each other’s warmth.

_Yes._


End file.
